Taming the Lion
by Micayasha
Summary: When Squall and his girlfriend Rinoa pick the Top of the World ranch as their vacation spot, the former catches the eye of the charming, sensual, freespirited wrangler Irvine Kinneas, who is determined to tame himself a lion. [WIP]


_I should warn you all first that while, yes, this _is_ an Irvine/Squall story, it does start out with some Squall/Rinoa, and contains a bit of Irvine/Selphie. The main pairing _is_ I/S, though, and I promise you that is how it will end up._

_Also, although this is a M/M, it is not a Rinoa-bashing story. I can't stand stories where they make Rinoa out to be a screeching, petty, whorish, and unintelligent harpy. She isn't: I don't like her much, but I can appreciate that she is nice enough, if a little sheltered and spoilt._

* * *

"Why are we here, again?"

Rinoa pouted in her little-girl way and tugged at his hand as she led him out of the car and towards the buildings outside of the parking lot. "Come on, Squall, don't be so… so… _Squall!_"

Squall raised an eyebrow at her as he followed. "That might be a challenge," he said dryly. Rinoa huffed but smiled cheerfully anyway – nothing could dampen her mood today.

"You're such a meanie," she teased.

Squall snorted. "What are we, six?"

"Where are we supposed to sign in, anyway? I don't see anyone. Do we just wander from barn to barn and hope we find the office, or lobby, or something?"

"Well, hello there," came a friendly voice from behind them. It held a faint Southern accent, but nothing too strong, and it was a deep, pleasing baritone. "Do we have new guests?"

Rinoa spun on her heel with a bright smile. "Yes," she said as Squall turned more slowly to face the man. "Do you work here?"

"I do indeed," the man said with an answering smile – more of a predatory smirk than anything. He watched Squall with keen violet eyes as he tipped his cowboy hat with a little bow. "A pleasure. I'm Irvine Kinneas, resident cowboy."

Squall fixed the wrangler with his usual glare, but there was something in the man's smile that made it very hard to _mean_ it. Irvine Kinneas was a handsome one, no doubt about that – warm amethyst eyes, an easy smile and shining auburn waves of hair tied loosely at the nape of his neck, the tail flipped over his shoulder and a few loose strands tumbling to curl around his cheeks and frame his face. Rinoa was giggling in a very undignified manner, and it was clear Irvine was used to having this effect on women. Squall could feel a headache coming on.

"Rinoa Heartilly," she simpered with a shy little wave. "This sour puss next to me is Squall Leonhart."

Irvine's intense jeweled gaze was still fixed on Squall even as he answered, "Nice t'meet you, Rinoa. And you, Squall," he added. "I'll take you both to the registration office and we can get'cha a room. I assume you've got reservations?"

"Yes," Squall snapped, wishing the flirtatious cowboy would look away.

"Wonderful." His prayer was answered as Irvine finally broke eye contact, turning to Rinoa and offering his arm. "Shall we?"

She giggled again as she laid a hand on his forearm and allowed him to lead her. Squall followed a few paces behind, rolling his eyes.

* * *

"So?"

Squall blinked, glancing up from his book. "So, what?" he muttered uncooperatively at an expectant Rinoa, her hands clasped behind her back and her eyes wide with excitement.

She rolled her eyes good-naturedly. "So, what do you think of the ranch so far?" she elaborated. "Isn't it nice? It smells wonderful, so fresh and natural—"

"—and a bit like horse crap," he finished for her. She sighed and her smile wavered.

"Come on, Squall. I'm trying to have a good time. You _never_ go on vacation, not even for Christmas or anything, and you need a _break._ A bustling city would do you no good! You need to get out into nature and breathe some clean air."

"It's not clean air. It smells like equine fecal matter," he countered.

"You are _no_ fun."

"I told you that when you first asked me out, Rinoa," Squall reminded her. When she merely gave him a pleading look in answer, her shoulders hunched in a defeated manner, he sighed and waved a hand dismissively. "Okay, okay. I'll try to have a good time. It _is_ nice not to hear the highways and sirens and things like that." Rinoa brightened and bounced a little on the balls of her feet.

"It is, isn't it?" she agreed, perking up a bit at the sound of a bell ringing in the distance. "Oh! That's the dinner bell! C'mon, Squall, let's go eat! I'm starved!"

It was a nice cabin, he admitted to himself as she tugged him outside and across the grassy field towards the mess hall. Rural but still watertight and warm and it smelt pleasantly of cedar and sandalwood. The bed was comfortable – the mattress was neither too hard nor too squishy: a little firm but still soft, just how he liked it. (Though Rinoa complained it was rock-hard, but he'd always found hers to be like _drowning_.) And the best part of the cabin was the large armchair by the fireplace (which wasn't needed in the heat of summer as it was) because it was the perfect place for Squall to curl up and read his book.

Belatedly, Squall realized Rinoa had been talking this entire time. He had really heard it as more of an irritating hum in the background. She was a nice girl, she really was, but there were times when her voice was so constant it became like hearing nails on a chalkboard.

"Oh! Look, it's Irvine!" Rinoa's hand flung in front of his face to point to his left and he leaned back reflexively to avoid his nose being hit. She was still bouncing excitedly.

Had there been something in that complimentary coffee in the registration office? He was rather glad he hadn't had any.

"Hey, there!"

It was a female voice, bright and perky, and Squall turned to see Irvine heading their way with a girl on his back, her legs round his waist and an arm wrapped around his shoulder. The other hand was waving enthusiastically at them. _Probably a girlfriend,_ Squall thought, and told himself he wasn't disappointed by that.

The girl was quite pretty, he noticed as they approached. Her brown hair was worn in a peculiar style, cut to her chin and flipped up at the ends. She had striking green eyes and was almost as tanned as the man who carried her. Clad in a sunshine-yellow jumper and a pair of classic cowboy boots – pointed toes, heels, and all – it was clear she was very at home here.

"Nice to see you again," Irvine said as he came to a stop. "This here's Selphie Tilmitt. She's another wrangler here."

Selphie beamed at them. "Hi!" she greeted them. "I'd shake your hands, but I don't think poor Irvine can bend down that much. It's nice to meet y'all, though! You're Rinoa, right?" Rinoa nodded. _Does everyone smile constantly here?_ Squall wondered. "And you must be Squall."

He gave a curt nod, feeling awkward around these too-cheerful people with their split-your-face grins and laughing eyes. The inanity of it all got on his nerves.

Though if he really examined the situation, he supposed he wasn't being fair. He was always too hard on happy people. Selphie and Irvine seemed genuinely cheerful – it was Rinoa's smile that looked fake, right now. She seemed to be sizing Selphie up as a potential rival. He figured it was due to the green eyes that kept raking over him.

Squall turned and gestured to Rinoa to enter the hall. Behind him, he could have sworn he heard Selphie quietly say something like, "You were right, Irvine, he _is_ cute!" But when he turned to see, the two were smiling innocently and Irvine swept a hand to the doorway, saying gallantly, "After you."

Squall turned back, feeling silly. He had probably imagined it.

All through dinner, Rinoa chatted amiably with the other guests, making many new friends, while Squall sat stiffly and picked at his vegetables. It was quite good food, but the hairs on the back of Squall's neck were prickling uncomfortably – he had the distinct feeling someone was watching him, and it made him unable to enjoy his meal.

"…don't you think, Squall?"

"Huh?" He jumped.

Rinoa was looking at him strangely. "I said, tonight would be a great night to go for a ride, don't you think? It's still warm and the sun hasn't even touched the horizon yet."

"Oh. Yeah," he answered, unable to focus fully on the question. "I don't know that they have one scheduled, though."

Rinoa looked disappointed. "I guess."

"You know, I think someone at our table's caught the eye of that gorgeous wrangler over there," someone remarked slyly. "He's been glancing at us from under his lashes all evening. Thinks he's being sneaky."

Squall glanced behind him at the staff table to find familiar violet eyes locked on him. A smirk touched the corners of that wide mouth as Irvine winked before turning back to talk with the blonde woman sitting to his left.

"Oh! I do think he just winked at your young man, Rinoa!" another woman gasped. "Well, fancy that!"

"He wasn't winking at Squall," Rinoa said airily.

"She's right," Squall agreed, his cheeks feeling oddly warm. "He was probably looking at one of you."

The women giggled, though he hadn't actually meant it flirtatiously, and all told Rinoa what a charming boyfriend she had. Rinoa preened under the attention.

She was a beautiful girl, he noticed detachedly. She was Japanese, like him – though he was only part, which was obvious by his blue-gray eyes – and always smiling. She was friendly, though a little prone to jealousy at times, and that she was such an optimist was good for Squall, who took his job very seriously and would not have gone on this vacation at all were it not for Rinoa's begging, pleading, cajoling, and a bit of force.

Three weeks ago – which was approximately six months into their relationship – she had told him she loved him.

And he'd nearly had a _panic _attack.

She'd been good, though – had tried very hard to hide the flash of hurt in her eyes when he'd choked on his wine and given her what he could only imagine was a 'deer-in-the-headlights' expression. She had said she understood, and didn't expect him to say it back yet, because she knew he was someone who didn't easily trust.

"Don't say it back if it's a lie," she'd said. "It's okay. I can wait until you're ready. I just wanted you to know."

The thing was, he wasn't sure he would _ever_ be ready to tell her he loved her. He wasn't sure what love was, even. You were supposed to want to spend the rest of your life with the person you loved. Rinoa was beautiful, kind, laughed easily, intelligent despite her occasional bouts of girly ditziness, and didn't think he was totally boring. Her lips were always warm, soft and inviting, and she hadn't laughed at him when he had been wary – shy, even – during their first time together. She was a good girlfriend, he knew. Most men would kill for a woman like her.

But he wasn't sure he could tell her he wanted to be with her _forever_. Forever was a very, _very _long time.

A teasing voice in his ear startled him from his reverie. "Squall, dinner's _over_." He tensed, then relaxed again as he recognize the voice as Rinoa's. She peered intently at him, a slightly frown on her face. "You've been really out of it all evening, Squall. What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing," he answered gruffly, standing and taking his dishes to the trays where the other empty plates were stacked. The back of his neck prickled again.

"Doesn't seem like it," Rinoa returned dubiously, but she didn't press the matter. "Do you want to go schedule for some trail rides, now? They just posted the sign-up sheets."

Squall didn't even _like_ horses. He'd barely ridden before – a few times as a child, but only placid, docile ponies who, if you ever asked them to go beyond a leisurely trot, blinked dully at you as if to say, _What, are you kidding me?_

As far as he was concerned, horses were smelly, sweaty, violent giants who probably didn't want a human on their backs anyway. But Rinoa loved horses, and had owned several ponies as a child. She'd even done some professional showing in her adolescence, she'd told him, and she dearly missed riding. She might not have pressed so hard about coming to a dude ranch for their vacation if he'd simply told her he didn't like horses, but she'd been so excited he hadn't wanted to burst her bubble. So here they were.

"Sure," he said. "Let's go."

There was a small crowd gathered around the lists. The rides were divided into three categories: beginner, intermediate, and advanced. There were also different lengths – one hour, two hours, five hours, or the whole day.

Rinoa's pen hovered over the advanced, but with a cursory glance at Squall, said, "I suppose we should take beginner, then?"

"Aw, now, you don't want t'do that," drawled a voice from behind them. Squall knew without turning that it was Irvine. "Beginner's for the chickens and the kiddies. Your boy don't look like either to me." Squall glared over his shoulder, only to find Irvine shooting him another playful wink.

"Okay, we'll take intermediate, then," Rinoa said decisively. "How long, Squall? For tomorrow's ride, at least?"

"Take the two-hour," Irvine advised, his breath rippling over the back of Squall's neck.

When had he gotten so close? Squall shifted uncomfortably. In such proximity, he could even _smell_ the wrangler – sweat and leather and soap, and not entirely unpleasant – and the thought made him irritable.

"Why?" Squall demanded, whirling with a defensive glare. Whoops – bad idea. The motion only brought him closer to the smirking cowboy, who didn't seem fazed at all, either by the fierce glare or that only a few scant inches separated their lips. Every muscle in Squall's body was tense. He was _not_ used to people invading his personal bubble. Even Rinoa didn't get so close unless they were kissing or something; she didn't just stand there and make his heart pound like this.

"Because," Irvine answered easily, his eyes glinting teasingly, "I'm leading that one tomorrow."

He tipped his hat, gave Rinoa a little bow, and sauntered off. An energetic Selphie leaped onto his back, and he was off, laughing and talking animatedly with the rest of the staff.

Rinoa was giggling, again, and her cheeks were slightly flushed. Squall glared at her, for lack of anyone else to blame, and she sobered up, clearing her throat.

"Um. So… shall we take the two-hour, then?"

* * *

"Do you like him or something?" Squall asked later around his toothbrush, as they readied for bed. Rinoa blinked uncomprehendingly at him in the mirror and spat in the sink.

"Who?" she asked, rinsing her toothbrush off and setting it in the holder.

"Irvine," Squall answered exasperatedly.

She picked up a comb and began to work through the tangles in her hair. "Of course not," she said. "He's just… charming, that's all. He has this air about him that makes it impossible to resist smiling, you know? Well, impossible for anyone but you," she teased. "Besides, I have you. And you know, I think he might be with that Selphie girl, anyway. Good thing, too," she added haughtily, "because I think she was checking you out. Why did you ask, anyway?" She shot him a mischievous look. "Were you jealous?"

"Maybe," Squall said distractedly as he replaced his own toothbrush to its stand. "You just kept giggling and blushing and acting all coy."

"Sorry," she said contritely. "He's just so…"

"Charming," Squall finished wryly. "I know."

* * *

"You, mister, have got some _explaining_ to do."

"Really?" Irvine queried innocently. "Explaining about what?"

"That gorgeous piece of meat down at the dining hall! You're trying to steal him away from that poor girl!"

"She's hardly poor," Irvine countered absent-mindedly. "If I overheard correctly when she was talkin' to her new friends, she owned about five ponies when she was a kid. What about that screams 'poor'?"

"Don't twist my words, cowboy," Selphie scolded, tugging a lock of his hair in reprimand. "You know just what I mean. You shouldn't try and break up a happy couple."

"Happy? Did they look happy to you? He looked like he was ready to murder her if she said another word."

"You don't even know he's interested in men as well as women! Not everyone's as open-minded as you, Irvine," Selphie reminded him.

"Mind combin' my hair, darlin'?" Irvine handed her a brush. "Thanks. And anyway," he went on as he knelt with his back to Selphie so she could start on his hair, "even if he wasn't bisexual before, what's to say _I_ can't interest him? He doesn't have to like _men…_ just _me._"

Selphie laughed as she unwound his ponytail. "You're such a hedonist, Irvine Kinneas."

"And you don't mind one bit."

She laughed again.

"You don't mind this, though, do you, Seffie? Me goin' after him?"

"Why would I mind?" she asked by way of answer as she flipped a newly-combed section of hair over his shoulder. "It's not like we're married or anything, and God knows I haven't exactly been faithful, either. You can shag whoever you like. Good luck with that one, though – he's cute, but he looks like he just ate a lemon or something. I'm telling you, Irvine, if looks could kill…" She tossed the second section over his shoulder and set to work on the last.

"But they can't," Irvine pointed out sensibly. "Not t'worry, Seffie. I'll have Squall Leonhart by the end of the week." His hair was tangle-free, now, and Selphie replaced the hairtie.

"But in the meantime?" Selphie's voice had taken on a low, suggestive tone, and Irvine grinned as he turned and pressed his mouth to hers. His arms slipped around her as she wrapped her legs around his waist and he lifted her up from the floor to set her on the bed. Breaking the kiss and ducking his head, he chuckled huskily against her throat.

"In the meantime," he agreed in a murmur, pressing a kiss to her jaw and then stealing the breath from her in another passionate embrace. His tongue traced the seam of her lips and she opened them with a little sigh of surrender, sliding her tongue against his and rocking her hips up to force a groan of pleasure from him. His hand slid up the back of her jumper and unzipped it, the other one sliding up her belly beneath it to brush the undersides of her breasts, his thumb skirting around the areola of her nipple and as she gasped her own pleasure into his mouth, all she could think was that no one, _no one_, could kiss like Irvine Kinneas.

* * *

_This is just the introduction. Hopefully, the next chapter will be a bit longer, though I can't promise anything._

_You should all know, this probably won't be a very long story. I have a habit of abandoning my stories, so I'm going to try and make this one short and sweet in the hopes of finishing it. Maybe five chapters? Maybe more, maybe less. I'll let you know as I get closer to the end._


End file.
